


maroon

by Hillena



Series: words that are sung [1]
Category: Skyfall (2012) - Fandom
Genre: Crack, M/M, q's name doesnt fit him
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-09
Updated: 2013-07-09
Packaged: 2017-12-18 05:46:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 478
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/876301
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hillena/pseuds/Hillena





	maroon

The double-O loomed over his quartermaster, “you say I’m not your type,” Bond held onto the edge of Q’s desk behind him, “but I can make you sway.”  
  
Q put a hand on his chest, pushing the other away, “it makes you burn to learn you’re not the only one.” He sat back down on his chair and continues to bury himself in codes. Bloody idiot’s talking in metaphors.  
  
Bond stood in front of his desk, his arms crossed, “I’d let you be if you put down your blazing gun.”  
  
—  
  
Q’s at the roof top, a cigarette between his lips. He’s been trying to find Bond for three days, and then he gave up a few hours ago. “Who does he think he is?” He muttered to himself in annoyance, “Christ?” Q let go of the fag, letting it fall to the pavement below him. He crossed his arms over his chest, closing his eyes for a bit, “now you’ve gone somewhere else, far away,” He runs a hand through his mop of curls, “I don’t know if I will find you.”  
  
“but you feel my breath on your neck,” Bond says against his nape. Q flinches away; the other holds him by his arms, careful if ever he slips.  
  
—  
  
Q tutted Bond, taking his battered gun, “What the hell have you done to this?” He said, “Throw it in acid?” He turned back to Tanner, handing him some paperwork for his project. Tanner left, giving both of them a curt nod.  
  
infatuation, Q thinks.  
  
Bond turns him around to face him, “not seeing the rest of you,” He gave Q a slow once-over, “is getting the best of me.” Q wrenched out of the other’s grasp, walking back to his office, “it such a shame that you shot me down,” Bond said as he followed, “it would’ve been nice to be around.”  
  
—  
  
Bond walks into the pub some blocks away from MI-6, Eve ranting about something he’d been half listening to one the way over. He stops all of a sudden when something at the bar caught his eye.  
  
Q was sitting on a stool, leaning against the bar top, whiskey in hand.  _i didn’t think he fancied drinking_ , Bond thinks.  _i didn’t even know he went out._ “Been there for a while, Martin?” Eve says walking over to Q.  _Martin._  ”Sorry I’m late, our dear Bond kept me.” Q—  _Martin_  was not wearing his usual clothes and absolutely does not look like his usual, cardigan wearing, bespectacled self.  
  
His hair was in some sort of disheveled state, fringe gone and looked like it was just combed back by his fingers hurriedly. He was wearing a white, club collared dress shirt, the first two buttons undone and the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. Red suspenders holding up his black trousers and wearing leather Jack Purcell sneakers.


End file.
